


Stress Eater

by SolarMorrigan



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship If You Want, takes place sometime before The Phineas and Ferb effect, we all know where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: “Mustyou spend all your time eating?” Cavendish scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “We just stopped for lunch two hours ago.”“If you gotta know, I eat when I’m stressed.”
Relationships: Balthazar Cavendish & Vinnie Dakota
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Stress Eater

**Author's Note:**

> Found a couple of old dakavendish fics in my files I never posted, so here you guys go, I guess??

_“Must_ you spend all your time eating?” Cavendish scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “We just stopped for lunch two hours ago.”

It was the sort of complaint that Dakota would normally have shrugged off; Cavendish didn’t really mean it, Dakota figured, he just liked to complain. Today, though, had been a gem of a bad day in what had already been a decently shitty week. They’d failed their mission, Cavendish was in a particularly foul mood, and Dakota had had to travel back not once, but twice to save Cavendish’s danger-prone ass from some improbable death.

(He’d seen the panic in his own eyes when he beckoned himself over from around the corner, evidently afraid he hadn’t protected Cavendish from the falling piano as he’d thought he had, and so had reassured himself that, no, that danger was passed; Cavendish got taken out again later in the day by a baseball going what seemed like Mach 1.)

Today, Dakota didn’t feel like being anything like gracious or easy-going. He took a large bite out of the soft pretzel he’d just bought (and he hadn’t even asked Cavendish to pay this time!) before he answered, just because he knew it bothered Cavendish.

“If you gotta know, I eat when I’m stressed.”

Cavendish scoffed; it was a very specific and very British sound that Dakota had never actually heard anyone make outside of TV before he met Cavendish. “What could _you_ possibly have to be stressed about? You hardly have to do any work, you only pitch in when I make you, and when our mission inevitably fails you just shrug and declare it’s time for a snack!”

“I’m… uh,” Dakota paused to think, wondering if there was any reason at all Cavendish would find acceptable, before giving a mental shrug and going with something that was close to the truth, “worried about a friend.”

_“What_ friend?” Cavendish tapped an irritated pattern with his fingers against his upper arm. “We spend nearly all our time together. How do you even have time for friends outside of work?”

Dakota didn’t have an answer for that one (mostly because Cavendish was right – he _didn’t_ have friends outside of work, or really even very many friends inside of work, come to think of it), and so just shrugged and took another bite of his pretzel. It was actually a pretty good pretzel.

Apparently, the non-answer was uncharacteristic enough that Cavendish softened a little. Not much, but enough that his posture became a little less schoolteacher-with-a-grudge. “Well, what’s wrong with your friend?” he asked, not unkindly.

“He’s, uh, not… not doin’ well,” Dakota said slowly.

Cavendish softened a few degrees further, and Dakota wondered just how far he could get, vaguely describing his worries _about_ Cavendish _to_ Cavendish.

“I’m worried he’s gonna die.”

“Oh.” Cavendish frowned, less displeased and more sympathetic. “I’m… sorry to hear that, Dakota.”

“Eh, whadaya gonna do?” Dakota shrugged, practically shoving the last of his pretzel into his mouth and mumbling, “Nothin’ I _can_ do right now.”

Shifting uneasily on his feet, Cavendish put a hesitant hand on Dakota’s shoulder. Cavendish wasn’t really good with emotion, and it put a sort of wobbly feeling in Dakota’s chest to watch him try. “Well, if… there is anything I can do, let me know.”

_You can stop dyin’ on me,_ Dakota wanted to say. _You can be more careful._

“Nah, man,” Dakota said instead, offering Cavendish a smile. “It’ll be alright. But thanks.”

Cavendish’s mouth quirked into a little smile in return. “Well, this has been a trying day. What say we just get back to the office?”

His bad mood seemed to have been forgotten, at least. Dakota figured that was something.

“Sounds like a plan.”

In any case, he was still around, and that was a better consolation than anything. Whatever else happened, Dakota knew he would remember that. With a grin, he clapped Cavendish on the back. “Do I get to drive?”

“It’s my turn to drive,” Cavendish said, fishing the keys to their crappy little time vehicle out of his pocket.

“You drove us here, though,” Dakota pointed out. “Doesn’t that make it my turn?”

Cavendish shook his head. “ _Today_ is my turn.”

“We’re time travelers. What does “today” even really _mean?”_

“It means it’s still my turn to drive.”

Dakota huffed, but there was no real displeasure behind it; there was no mistaking the glint of humor behind Cavendish’s glasses, and Dakota couldn’t help but feel like, however the day had started, it wasn’t shaping up to end too badly.

**Author's Note:**

> I am also on [Tumblr](https://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/)


End file.
